Cih's Otber Way 




THOMAS W. FESSENDEN 






Copyrighted 1915 
by Thomas W. Fessenden 






NOV I (915 
'CI,A4161^6 
'H4^ , / « 




lO the noble men and women 
of Wesley Church, whose 
friendship has made lighter 
every burden, whose unvarying loyalty 
has made possible every achievement, 
whose confidence and sympathy have 
encouraged every effort, whose faith and 
devotion have surmounted every obstacle, 
whose kindness and love have been un- 
stinted, and whose unceasing prayers 
have followed me day and pight, this 
little volume is dedicated, with the hope 
that some of the lines herein contained 
may live in the hearts of these men and 
women long after the author has passed 

from their midst. 

— T. W. Fessenden 



J[0r0foarii 



The author lays no claim to the poet's gift. 
The following verses have been penciled from 
time to time in the course of busy pastorates, 
not as a contribution to poetry but as a matter 
of personal recreation and pleasure. Some of 
them have appeared in the Wesley bulletin. Some 
of them have never seen the light before. They 
are published now in this form only at the urgent 
request of the people of Wesley Church, the 
author being forced, by much pressure, to yield 
these "children of the heart" to wider spheres, 
and to the tender mercies of all who read them. 

T. W. Fessenden. 



-<• 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




pfe's ®%r Pag 



"Beyond your flesh and mind and blood, 
Nothing there is to live or do. 

There is no man, there is no God, 
There is not anything but you." 

So sings a bard new born to fame, 
With soul and spirit all on fire. 

Who standeth forth in no one's name 

And would the weeping world inspire. 

But sings he right or sings he true, 
Who pleads so selfishly for self? 

And will such preachment ever do 
Destruction to the reign of pelf? 

Oh for a silver tongue to sing 

The anthem of the coming day! 

Oh for a prophet's voice to ring 

God's heraldy to men! And say: 

Beyond your flesh and mind and blood. 
All things there are to live and do. 

There is a man, there is a God, 

There something is that is not you; 

There is a morn, there is a noon. 

The night is but day's deeper sky; 

Man's hardest task is man's best boon, 
And tears bring vision to his eye. 

The poisoned air a man has breathed. 
Need not be breathed again by you; 



«^»a»4Ma»» 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




The pot in which a soul has seethed, 
Is only one, of which are two. 

Another pot of life there is, 

Which other sort of essence brews; 

The secret of it lies in this — 

Which pot, of twain, a man will choose. 

There is a way whereof is death. 

Whose door turns on the hinge of doubt, 
Wherein a man, with every breath. 

Breathes only murky midnight out; 

A way in which men see awry, 

Who, hopeful once, looked unto God, 

But now, with unimpassioned eye, 
See not above the senseless clod. 

Another way of life is found, 

A path where noisome tumults cease 
And all the world's discordant sound 

Is chorded into songs of peace. 

Comes singing now, with threnode song, 
This man — a poet -preacher young. 

Who, smarting 'neath a wretched wrong, 
A challenge unto life hath sung. 

He sings the minor strain of night. 

And not the paean of the dawn; 
Of social hurt and social blight; 

The pit's black brood; the pool's poor spawn. 

Deep dipping down in ghastly grief. 
In sorrow seeped from ugly walls. 



Apostate from a great belief, 

To foundered unbelief he calls. 

In chaste but frozen verse he chants 

A tearless requiem to faith; 
In hope's uplifted face he flaunts 

The vapVous veilings of a wraith. 

Now what can so have changed a man 
Who bears the poet's blazing heart, 

That he can voice, in one brief span. 

Two notes so widely wrenched apart? 

'Tis not that men or God are changed, 
Nor life, nor times, nor toil, nor days; 

But only that a soul has ranged 

Through dreary, sombre-shadowed ways. 

'Tis not that truth and love are dead, 
Nor worth and virtue sadly sold; 

But only that from dull gray lead, 
No man can fashion yellow gold. 

'Tis only that the pot wherein 

The red, ripe fruits of life were cast. 

Was black without and black within — 

Burned black in pain's untempered blast. 

'Tis only that the path he trod 

Was path of night, not path of day; 

And that the thing mistook for God 

Was nothing more than human clay. 

Thus while he sounds a dismal dirge 

To unstarred men and sunless skies. 

Earth rids her sons of yoke and scourge 
And orbits nearer Paradise. 



»•«■••«••« 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 







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pe'a Ponh 



I cannot change my yesterdays; 

Time's ink inscribes their story fast, 
And on life's open page arrays, 

Full-chaptered, all the guilty past. 

I cannot, from the book, erase 

One jot or tittle, blot or stain; 

Nor, from the lines, one line efface, 
Acquittal from my guilt to gain. 

But I can change, thank God, today; 

Not yet the book's last page is turned; 
There still is time to think and pray; 

Not yet is life's low wick outburned. 

Dear Lord, forgive my book and me; 

I pray its record Thou'lt erase; 
Tomorrow I will write for Thee 

A clean new page to take its place. 



ttje Pergtits 



They fill, in youth, remotest skies — 
A sort of dream-built Paradise, 
Dim hills of life we think to climb, 
At some less festive, sterner time. 

In manhood's hour, with keener eyes, 
We find them filling all our skies; 






LIFE'S OTHER WAY 



And each new day's insistent call 
Rings down from some escarpment tall. 

'Tis then, when on a peak just won — 
Because the day's full task is done — 
And thinking we have scaled the last, 
We look away to heights more vast. 

In that high day may we be glad 
For every steep ascent we've had; 
And see, with undismayed surprise, 
The mountain that beyond us lies. 

And when we reach the snowy crest. 
Where ends the rugged summit-quest. 
From that lone crag may we arise 
To find no longer hills; but skies. 



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As buds a branch in winter time. 

Too late to bloom in such a clime. 

So, Lord, my soul, a laggard thing. 

Long overdue, is quickening; 

And yet, dear Christ, my song-stirred heart 

Sings praises o'er this tardy start. 

Beseeching Thee that otherwhere 

In some sweet, spring-time atmosphere. 

Thine own good hand, Thine own good hour 

Shall bring my soul's late bud to flower. 



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LIFE'S OTHER WAY 

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From sunless depths of distant seas 








And fathom-foundered tragedies, 








Where ocean's dead lie fast asleep, 








Untombed, yet buried in the deep, 








Outcast of some distempered swirl, 








I pluck thee from the sands, sweet peari. 








But who has even dimly guessed 








The grim possession of thy breast? 








Thou seemest fleckered drop of dew ; 
A tear the moonlight wantons through ; 
A smile imprisoned by the frost; 
A bubble on a rose leaf lost. 








Hazed laughter, as a misty morn's, 








Thy beaming countenance adorns. 








Thou seemest truant breath of mist, 






Blown from the dawn-sky's amethyst; 








A kiss upon a child's lip pursed; 








A bud not yet to flower burst; 








The promise of some wondrous thing 








That, sleeping, waits awakening. 








But thou art dismal house of death; 








Thy life the confiscated breath 






Of some poor pawn the heartless sea 


■ ■ 


Played forfeit with, to fashion thee. 






The secret of thy lustrous gray 






Is but a tithe of ugly clay. 








The sea's unlovely sacrifice 






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That immolate within thee lies. 




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LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




And we, who cherish thy sweet smile, 
Forget the dust that all the while, 
Enshrouded 'neath the form we see, 
Gives all thy wondrousness to thee; 
For thou, a precious gem to us, 
Art but a worm's sarcophagus, 
The coffin of that luckless thing 
That wastes within thee, mouldering. 

And yet thou has not played in vain 
Thy world-old tragedy of pain. 
We learn, from thy transfigured grace. 
That tears are pearls on life's sad face; 
That our dead dust and sacrifice 
Are jewels set in rare disguise; 
That he who carries in his breast, 
Like thy long-prisoned ghostly guest, 
A shattered hope, a perished dream, 
Shall find they lifeless only seem; 
And that a fairer, fuller dress 
Is fashioned round their lifelessness. 



pUgrtmage 



This earth is not my home; 
I tent along the strand of her unceasing sea, 
Across which lies the land of my nativity 

Towards which, homesick, I roam. 

This day is not my all; 
I dimly grope my way through its uncertain light, 






Athwart which breaks the day, that hath nor cloud, 
nor night; 
And wait the morning's call- 

This air is not my life; 
I smother in the deep of its unwilling breath, 
Above which breathes the sweep of life that hath no 
death; 

And look for ended strife. 

This task is not my work; 
I lend it these few years of time's brief little scroll, 
Behind which stretch the spheres for which I am a soul; 

And no day's bench-piece shirk. 

This road is not the end; 
These footprints fall and wait upon a narrow street. 
Beyond which lies the place where endless highways 
meet; 

And at that place a "Friend." 

This death is not a foe ; 
My soul but yields him dust of transient, outgrown 

earth; 
Flings off a clumsy crust for Heaven's vaster girth; 

And ampler worlds to know. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Prag^rg 



Lord God, I have been fugitive from Thee; 
Down the long road Thy presence I have fled; 
But oh the empty end of truancy; 
And how my vagrant feet and heart have bled ! 

In pride I vaulted to the distant stars; 

In shame descended to the reeky pit. 

I leaped beyond Thy love-appointed bars, 

And laughed fool-laughter at the nerve of it. 

I fled Thee when mine eyes held misty tears; 
Fled on through shameless nights and dire days; 
And on, across the battered, broken years; 
And through a labyrinth of tangled ways. 

But Lord, today my foolish flight shall end. 
The pit, the stars, have done their worst, 

their best; 
And Thou, the errant sinner's patient Friend, 
Still callest. Come O weary one and rest. 

And I am weary, sin-sick and weary. 
Ah Lord, I sink, a sinner by the way; 
Come and lift me from the shadows dreary. 
To walk with Thee, in light and life, I pray! 



Why worry, O my soul, or fret? 
God's wondrous goodness never yet 
Has been withdrawn or held from thee; 
He dealeth with thee graciously. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Master, I will cease to fear; 

I'll smile for Thee, through every tear; 
And when the storm is over rough, 
I'll say, "His grace," it is enough. 

1 will not tremble, tho the night 

Be filled with vague and starless fright; 

Nor falter on the thorny way ; 

But I will love Thee, Lord, and pray. 

Nor shall the sting of sorrow's dart 
Reach deep enough to crush my heart; 
For all the hurt of life or death. 
The "Man of Sorrows" conquereth. 

And when, upon the morning air, 
Eternal life breathes everywhere, 
I'll sing the song the crowned ones sing, 
"Thank God, thank God, for everything. 



No day but hath its quick surprise 
Of either happiness or pain, 
When sighs turn songs or laughter dies, 
And gain is loss, and loss is gain. 

No life but hath its sudden turn 

On fickle fortune's hidden way. 

When warm hearts freeze or cold hearts burn. 

And some souls faint, and others pray. 

O Lord whate'er events may be 
On yonder road, without alarm. 



I 



•^ 



LIFE'S OTHER 



WAY 




Let no swift change outmaster me. 
No transient trick disturb my calm. 

But let me have Thy wondrous peace, 
A song from out my brave heart rise, 
Till road-turn snares of earth shall cease 
In Heav'ns eternal, glad surprise. 



If I should meet on life's long road. 
Today, some pilgrim, sad and lone — 
O help me, Lord, to share his load, 
Tho' bent and broken with my own. 

If I should chance, along the way, 
Upon a heavy, breaking heart — 

give me wit and grace, I pray, 
Its hurt to mend, with gentle art. 

If some lost trav'ler I shall find. 
Eyes blurred and dull with bitter tears, 
May I have sight to lead the blind; 
And strength to still his stormy fears. 

If standing at some road's end, late, 

1 spy a man, who has no key — 

O give me haste to swing the gate, 
And let him in, ahead of rne. 

Then Lord, when I shall reach the end 
And lay the years and burdens down, 
May I bear but this title — -Friend; 
And wear but friendship's crown. 



4lH 



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LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Deep unto deep, the Psalmist sings, 
In kindred bond of nature cries; 
The surface to the deeper seas; 
The lower to the higher skies; 
The far swift stars to stars beyond; 
And lowly Earth to Paradise. 

So Lord, from out my heart there springs 

A cry no human voice can still; 

The yearning of a love too vast 

For any save Thy love to fill; 

The surging of my soul to Thine; 

To Thine the yielding of niy will. 

Dear Lord, who knowest human need. 
Who hearest when our life-deeps cry. 
From Thy vast deep of love and grace 
O let us catch the sweet reply; 
And know the filling of our want 
At Thy deep fountains of supply. 



The summer passes; and the sun 
Sinks quickly ere the day is done. 
Deep autumn hues tinge all the leaves; 
The stubbled fields are bare of sheaves; 
A chill invades the evening air 
And flowers are dying everywhere. 

So too, the summer of my day 
Has smiled and sung itself away; 
And I, unready as it seems, 



i 



i 



I 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY i 



Find autumn tinging all my dreams; 
And sullen winter's gusty breath 
Foretells the circumstance of death. 

O Lord, who madest summer time; 
Who madest winter's sterner clime; 
Thou Lord, who knowest how the cold 
Bites deep when earth has worn us old, 
Let this my winter day be brief — 
The pause before sweet spring's relief. 



And where, Lord God and King, art Thou, 
In all this hell of war's grim scourge? 

Dost Thou behold the nations bow 

In death? Dost hear earth's blood-choked 
dirge? 

Art Thou at peace behind the suns. 

Smoke-hid from our tear-ruined eyes? 

Or dost Thou hear, with us, the guns 

That batter down Thy people's skies? 

O God we lift our helpless thought, 

In one great, yearning faith to Thee; 

Let this be war's last wicked blot. 

The blood-baptized of earth shall see ! 

Let this forever end men's strife; 

Let kingdoms' wretched wrangles cease; 
And hush the mad war-notes of life 

In world-wide melodies of peace! 



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L I F E ■ S OTHER WAY \ 



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With morn's approach shall glow. 

God guide my errant footsteps 
By paths pitfalled with sin, 



Ten lepers healed ! A living death 
Annulled; ten faces smile once more, 
E'en as the morning's dewy breath 
Brings laughter when the night is o'er. 

"Were not ten cleansed?" the Master said; 

"Where then are found the nine? 

One only comes to bow the head 

And voice his thankful heart to mine." 

Oh where the use of happy smile. 
Or health's returning gracious kiss, 
If base ingratitude defile 
Men's souls with selfishness like this? 

O patient Christ, I bring to Thee 
My thanks for life's full blessedness. 
Lord save me from that leprosy 
Whose drear disease is thanklessness. 



God help me not to murmur 

Tho' pain and darkness blight; I 

But just to wait with patience, | 

The coming of the light. j 

God keep my heart so trustful, | 

i Beneath the rudest blow, | 

iThat all my starless sorrow 



That with each day's hard journey 
That day's dear heights I win. 

God guard my eager spirit, 
Lest in its daring flight 
To dazzling, distant splendors, 
It plunge, wing-hurt, to night. 



The dull grey dawn, I met today, 
Gave little hope of sun or star; 
Yet, ere the morn had died away. 
The heavy clouds were blown afar; 
And then, tonight, the sunset fair 
Spun golden promise every where. 

So is it with the days of life : 
Our dawns rise full of cloud and rune; 
Yet all their dark, portentous strife 
Melts in the clear, blue depths of noon; 
And promises we thought were dead. 
At night, are in the sunsets spread. 

Dear Lord, I want to trust Thee so. 
When dismal, leaden skies I face. 
That I may wait the noontide glow 
And cloudless sunburst of Thy grace; 
And live for things that are to be. 
The things my sunsets promise me. 



goiter 



You painted no Madonnas, 
On chapel walls in Rome; 
But with a touch diviner, 
You lived one in your home. 

You wrote no lofty poems 
That critics counted art; 
But with a nobler vision. 
You lived them in your heart. 

You carved no shapeless marble 
To some high soul-design; 
But with a finer sculpture, 
You shaped this soul of mine. 

You built no great cathedrals 
That centuries applaud; 
But with a grace exquisite, 
Your life cathedraled God. 

Had I the gift of Raphael 

Or Michael Angelo, 

Oh what a rare Madonna 

My mother's life should show! 



Mumn^ 




I saw it first with untaught eyes. 

To fathom such a depth of skies, 

As o'er my infancy it bent, 

In love's dear, painful sacrament. 

I saw it from a tempest wild; 

And fled to it, a stricken child; 
I stroked and stroked and stroked it much; 

It gave me peace at every touch. 

I saw it once when fighting death, 

The river bubbling with my breath; 

Then all of earth and life gave place, 
And leaned above me in her face. 

I saw it white with holy wrath, 

Once, in my boyhood's periled path; 

Striking the cringing tempter dumb; 

Saving the man that yet should come. 

I saw it pained with my distress. 
The pain of love-lit gentleness. 

Oh how it eased each bleeding wound. 
As to my heart its balm I bound! 

I'd see it thus in every storm. 

Calm, radiant, and with mercy warm; 
I'd flee to it from every ill; 

It hath not lost its art; nor will. 

I saw it through my fevered youth, 
A fountain of the living truth; 



*x 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY \ 



It answered all my heart's hot quest 

And loved me on toward manhood's best. 

I saw it on a morning grey, 

Tear-wet. We said "Goodbye," that day. 
Those tears still glisten, priceless things. 

Gems in my life's rare gatherings. 

I see it now, across the years, 

Through mists of reverential tears; 

Above the tired past it smiles 

And lights the weary waste of miles. 

I see it in my inmost soul, 

A type that guides me to the goal; 
The finest fabric of my thought 

Is to its gracious likeness wrought. 

I'll see it through the years to be. 
Framed in the sweetest reverie; 

And find for pain, untold redress. 

In each new reverie's tenderness. 

I'll see it down through death's embrace; 

Now this, and now that other face; 
Her's and my Lord's — the two blent one — 

To light me "Home" — the journey done. 




LIFE'S OTHER WAY 



"What is an angel, mother dear?" 
My laddie softly said, 
As, kissing him a sweet good night, 
I lingered at hiis bed. 

"An angel, son," I said, "has face 
So deep and pure and fine. 
That in it every loveliness 
Finds skies in which to shine. 

It is a lovely soul, my child, 

From God's fair home above. 

Who comes to fill our hearts and lives 

With worlds and worlds of love." 

"O mother, mother dear," he said. 
And looked me through and through, 
"I know right now just what it is — 
My mother sweet, it's you." 




tn J^abg QIami 



Bare, little, pink, dimpled codger, 

Come to be our heart's free lodger. 

Step right in through the open door. 
No one has had your room before. 

We have been waiting for the skies 
To open in your baby eyes. 




>> 






We have been longing for a note 

Of angel music from your throat. 

Preachers tell us there's a heaven, 

Some folks say there may be seven. 

One or seven, heaven is true; 

It came to us along with you. 

Oh little blinking, kicking guest, 

Of all our rooms, you'll have the best- 

The deep, deep chamber of the heart. 
Stay little lodger — ne'er depart! 



Tune, Materna 



O Wesley Church, beloved of God, 

By men beloved, too; 

In this thy day of battle great, 

To thee w^e will be true; 

For thee we fight, for thee we pray; 

And hold thy banners high; 

For thee we shout, for thee we sing 

Thy praises to the sky. 

Thine altars burn with living fire; 
Thou girdest on thy sword; 
To thee thy sons swear fealty; 
And unto Christ thy Lord. 
May all thy future be secure ; 



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Thy victories increase; 

And from thy chancel ring for aye, 

The song that ne'er shall cease. 

Thy message unto men is life; 

Thy gift truth's holy light; 

Thy sign a high and blazing cross, 

A rhallenge to the night. 

In thy blest service, Wesley Church, 

Our lives we gladly spend; 

By day, by night, we strive for thee. 

And serve thee to the end. 

O Wesley Church, O Wesley Church! 

God vouchsafe power to thee, 

And pour His spirit on thy sons 

That they may rise and see 

The vanquished night, the conning day; 

All men redeemed by love; 

The city filled with God's own light, 

And heaven stretched above. 

O Wesley Church, dear Wesley Church! 

Thy sons here pledge to thee 

The strength of men, with valiant hearts, 

Our love and loyalty. 

May angel hosts thine armies lead; 

God's grace encircle thee 

With life and truth, and manhood's might 

Till thou shalt crowned be. 



L I F E S OTHER WAY 




®Ih ^ottgs 



Dedicated to the Elderly People of Wesley Church 

Old songs are sweetest when the soul 

has traveled long and far; 
Old loves are dearest when life's scroll 

has reached the closing bar ; 
Old friends are nearest when we dream 

o'er twilight's deep returns; 
Old days are fairest when the gleam 

of mem'ry's candle burns; 
And so we find when years are spent 

and swift the daylight dies. 
That old folk, with a calm content, 

turn back to morning skies; 
That in their very smile is borne 

the peace of day-dawns fair. 
And on their silvered brow is worn 

the look that angels wear. 
Oh who would bid them face about 

to scan horizons gray. 
Or who would shut these visions out, 

of that heart-holden day? 
'Tis better much that they should sing 

the dear, old songs anew 
And hear once more the heart strings ring 

as they were wont to do; 
While we who see their eyes ablaze, 

with youth's rekindled stars. 
Must note with joy and hymn of praise, 

old age redeemed from scars. 



j LIFE'S OTHER WAY 

I ^, ^ ,, ^^ ^ ,, 




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They wander out through sunny climes, 

where life was full of song. 
Where strike, for them, the golden chimes 

of bells clear, sweet and strong; 
Where flowers bloom and never fade, 

where shadows softly fall. 
And where beneath that gentle shade, 

no cares their souls enthrall. 
Ah, when some day the setting sun 

shall warn us of the night. 
When all earth's heavy tasks are done, 

may our dim eyes relight; 
Then may we sing, at length, as they 

those never dying songs, 
And strolling o'er the backward way 

meet with the singing throngs. 
Who saunter up the streets of gold, 

a-journey toward their youth. 
Who once were young, but now are old 

iand crowned with love and truth! 
O may we know when thus we run 
to find again the dawn, 
i That life has only just begun 

I and sunset days are gone; 

I That this long love for things that were, 

! beyond all things that be, 

I Is but the Soul's out mast'ring spur 

[ its birth-land realms to see, 

I And that this pace of aged feet, 

I across time's stubbled sod, 

j Is but the spirit's haste to greet 

I its Author-Spirit, God I 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Oh may we learn that thus we go 

as goes the ebbing tide, 
Back to the fount from which tides flow, 

to ampler seas and wide; 
And may we shout, as on we roam 

throughout undying years, 
"O morning land! Oh sweet, sweet home, 

eternal day appears!" 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




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Clean, staunch, unbent and tall as some great tree. 
Unbroken by the years, full-leaved and strong; 

So thou, my fine old friend, from blemish free. 
Hast lived until thy days are full and long. 

Thou standest there athwart the hill of age. 
Still young, as if upon some far-off slope, 

Unwearied by thine upward pilgrimage. 

Thine eye had caught the signal light of hope. 

The story of thy conquest of the years. 

To where and who and what thou art today, 

Upon thy gentle countenance appears 
And gives the secret of thy life away. 

Thou lovest God. Likewise thou lovest man. 

Thou hast not thought nor practised any ill; 
'Tis this, not years, that makes thy goodly span 

And gives thee space, within our hearts to fill. 

For some have lived to greater years than thine. 
Who never really yet have lived at all. 

Who stand not like the lordly, hill-top pine 

So clean and straight and tall among the tall. 

Deep down in truth thy soul has sunk its root; 
Thy head is lifted to the highest skies; 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 



What wonder that thou bearest ripened fruit? 
That virtue smiles within thy kindly eyes? 

Thy heart is God's accustomed dwelling place; i 

And He thy refuge from the tempest's might. ' 

Secure in His divine, sufficient grace, 

Thou'st weathered every storm and gale and night. | 

And now, today, thy years are eighty-four; 

The past is long, but longer, deeper still. 
The future with her skies is bending o'er 

Thy calm, brave figure on the golden hill. 



We cannot think of thee as being old; i 

But only as endued with deathless youth; | 

Refined by age, as is the choicest gold; I 

As are ideals that proximate the truth. | 

Thy thoughts are much of Heaven — rightly that; | 

For thou hast long had treasure treasured there. ! 

Thine every prayer and song and wayside chat | 

Has in it God's dear, blessed Otherwhere. | 

Such is the benediction thou dost give; ! 

And such the lesson that we learn of thee, | 

'Til, at our prayers, we pray that we may live | 

As well, if not to such longevity. i 

Nor do we close our prayer 'til we have said, ! 

"God bless thee, and let be God's gracious plan | 

To breathe His tend'rest mercies on thy head," I 

Our kind, sweet-tempered, Christian gentleman. i 

i 

I 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 







Palm ^nnhwg 



My heart, be thou Jerusalem 

For one glad, palm-flecked day. 

When Christ shall enter thee as King, 

Song-welcomed all the love-strewn way. 

Swing wide thine eager, waiting gates. 
Thy tribute down before Him fling. 

Oh sing a high hosanna now; 

He comes, thy long-expected King. 



They greeted Thee with ringing song; 
And cast their palms Thy path along. 
As on that triumph day in spring 
They sang for Thee, "Hosanna, King.' 

So Lord, for Thee, a song I sing; 
To Thee my high Hosannas bring; 
And spread my palms upon Thy way; 
O ride into my heart today. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




faster ^alutattan 



O dry, dear heart, thy tears! This day 

Is thy sweet Easter dawn; 
The gray old stone is rolled away; 

The bitter hour is gone. 

O smile, dear heart! The morning skies 
Are tuned with hymns of praise; 

The angels sing; their glad songs rise; 
This is the day of days. 

O lift, dear heart, with theirs, thy song! 

For death hath lost his sting; 
O sing it clear and loud and strong ! 

The Christ is risen King. 

O hope, dear heart ! Both love and trust 

Be thine as ne'er before; 
The grave holds but some native dust; 

See, see, the open door! 

O look, dear heart ! In happy flight 
Thy loved ones greet God's Son; 

They live forever, in His light; 
Their crown of life is won. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Look up dear hearts f The morning skies 

Are radiant with the dawn; 
The regnant King of Paradise 

Bids death and tears be gone; 
The day comes purpling o'er the hills; 

The vanquished night gives way, 
'Til every soul with rapture thrills 

And loses all dismay, 
As o'er the vacant grave Christ stands, 

The Lord of life and love. 
To bear us, on unfailing hands. 

Its dark embrace above. 



^a:ster |[itlte0 



Lilies, white lilies, O what do you say. 

Lifting your lips to the opening day? 

What is your message, what word do you bring. 

Sweet with the breath of the flowering spring? 

"Jesus is risen: This herald we give; 

Dying in Him, is beginning to live; 

Loved ones are waiting; the morning is here; 

Death is defeated and life doth appear." 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




'Tis Easter morning and the night is spent, 
And banished with it all the tears of Lent; 

The Christ emerges from the narrow tomb; 

The deep, wide skies move back to give Him room. 

The lilies bloom; the birds break forth to sing; 

And all the earth, rejoicing, hails Him, King. 
Ah heart of mine, hast thou a laggard beat? 

Awake — awake — awake thy Lord to greet! 

The children are so happy, all about. 

Dost hear, dull soul, their tuneful voices shout? 
Art thou still dead — and He alive — thy Lord? 

Bestir thee, soul — with theirs thy praises chord. 

And who is He — ^just yonder by the gate? 

Why stands He there? O Saviour do not wait! 
Thou'st conquered death! Oh great, glad victory! 

Come Lord! He comes! 'Tis immortality! 



^n ^aste |lrag^r 



It is not death, dear Lord, to die. 

Since Thou hast passed that lonely way; 
It is, for me, an opening sky. 

The morning of a nightless day. 
Then let me put my hand in Thine 

And face, with Thee, the setting sun; 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




O let, I pray, my glad eyes shine 

At evening when my task is done; 

O wake me, Lord, when morning breaks. 
To that unending day of mine. 

In which my soul its fulness takes 
Of light and life and love divine. 



m\t €l0»c& €ate 



Hemmed in and hedged on every hand, 
I feel the call of vaster spheres; 

By life's closed gate, each day I stand, 
As I have stood these empty years. 

I look for him who holds the key. 

To some day come, and ope the gate. 

Ah, then to life and liberty 

My peasant soul shall emigrate! 

But what 'til then? Am I to stand 
And hunger here for utmost stars. 

For wider seas, for distant land; 

And fret and chafe behind the bars ? 

Shall I but yearn and moan my fate 
Against the wall that shuts me in. 

And vainly tread, before the gate, 
A path of idleness and sin? 

No, Lord! I turn and leave the gate. 
O help me quench my wasted tears, 



■n^^uijf 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




And by Thy grace to cultivate 

The fertile field I've scorned for years. 

Then some day, Lord, beyond the gate — 
Just there upon the other side — 

Oh, come, and stand, and call, and wait, 
Thine arms and Heaven open wide! 



Hfeh 



No, not discouraged; just tired, that is all; 

Just glad to see the evening shadows fall, 
That in the silence of their soft embrace 

My weariness may find sweet resting place. 

No, not disheartened; just tired, nothing more; 

Just happy that the day's long strain is o'er, 
That in the drowsy pools of peaceful sleep i 

My heaviness may slumber fathoms deep. | 

No, not dejected; just tired, that alone; I 

Just thankful that the darkness claims her | 

own, i 

That in the chamber of her restfulness i 

Life's hurt shall lie in long forgetfulness. i 



No, not defeated; just tired, naught beside; 

Just grateful that it is the turn of tide, 
That needing now not either sail or oar. 

Upon flood-tide I make the sea's last shore. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




aioit'B pm 



Far, far out in the swing of space 
Each bold star is keeping its place; 
Undisturbed by the flight of years, 
Night after night each star appears. 

Deep, deep down in the frothy sea 
Tides are running unceasingly; 
Undismayed by the storms that blow. 
Day after day they ebb and flow. 

Orbit of star or sweep of tides — 
Over them both the Lord presides; 
Both, their mission and use fulfill; 
Nothing, with them, is wrong or ill. 

Thus, O Lord, let my orbit be — 
Never a swerve away from Thee; 
Thus the run of my life's great tides- 
Ebb or flow as Thy will decides. 



mttslftm mxh ^Ijahc^i 



After the cyclone's heavy fist, 
Calm; and the sky's deep amethyst. 
After the storm's untempered sway. 
Dawn; and the kindly face of day. 
Such is the way of the troubled world, 
With whip and scourge and lash unfurled, 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 





First the tempest and starless night, 
Then peace; and morn's fuU-visioned light. 

Let me, O Lord, this lesson learn; 
Let me this saving truth discern, 
That I may wait, devoid of fear, 
Knowing my sky will yet be clear; 
Brave and patient, tho' swept and tossed; 
Hopeful, tho' in the darkness lost; 
Fearlessly sure of better things; 
Breasting the gale on faith's firm wings. 



Pttb^r i\\t OIlau& 



I cannot see with clearness now. 

So strange and deep the cloud of grief; 
Nor can I know just where nor how 

This burdened heart shall find relief; 
But, with my dim and tearful sight, 

I turn O gracious One to Thee, 
Ah make my darkened vision bright 

With faith's transcendant radiancy! 
And looking thus through smokened glass. 

With only partial knowledge blessed. 
May I to light from darkness pass — 

My soul with cloudless truth possessed. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




^arfe ^ags 



No cloud has ever yet obscured the sun, 
But only hid his larger, clearer light; 
And all the shadows that the mists have spun 
Are witness of his shining, full and bright. 

So too, O Lord, in faith I see Thy grace 
Above the storm, above the cloud's deep drift; 
And tho' the shade lies heavy on my face, 
My heart feels more the light eternal lift. 

What then if, on my path, some shadows fall. 
Some days be dark, and wrapped in clinging spume? 
I know that there could be no clouds at all 
If skies were sunless and if all were gloom. 

I thank Thee much. Thou living, gracious One, 
That sometimes, when life's dazzling day is high 
And swift, fell fogs obliterate the sun, 
I know he still illuminates the sky. 



®mmjnr0&i 



We babble, rather fondly, about a better day 

That lies out there beyond us, along a peaceful way ; 

A day without a shadow of either hurt or grief. 
And not a faded flower, and not. a fallen leaf. 

We think we shall be happier in golden otherwheres. 
In spacious, softer-tempered, balmier atmospheres; 



I 

I LIFE'S OTHER WAY 

i 



1 



[ 



Where skies are ever kindly, and dwellings rest in peace, 
And life is grown so gracious that tears and heart- 
aches cease. 

We talk of our tomorrow; its joys anticipate. 

And watch for da'^vn's bright angel to swing the 
happy gate; 
We close our heavy eyelids upon the sorry past 

And dream of gladder moments our hearts shall i 

know at last. 

Oh vain and foolish babblings, oh idle, empty song! 

No day, the Master gives us, is over rough or long; 
The things we think untarnished, out in the cloudless 
. blue. 
We discover, when they're ours, can lose their 
sunny hue. 

We must give to thorn and darkness fairer estimate; 

Neither is imperfect, in its own appointed state. 
We must learn that living is a sacrificial art. 

And love must have an altar, or die within the 
heart. 

We shall enter into Heaven, not on flight of wings; 

But by making Heav'n daily, of daily happenings, 
Tomorrow will be better, much better every way. 

Just because we win it on the cross of yesterday. 



.4.>« 



f 

LIFE'S OTHER WAY \ 

\ 




m\t ^x%\\i 



The night is friendlier to me than the glaring day, I 

Her mantle softer than the breath of morning's breeze; | 

Deep down within her curtained calm, she hides away * 

The ghastly scaffolding of all my miseries. i 

My eyes that can no longer bear the blist'ring light, | 

So seared and tear-burnt their distorted, shadeless | 

view, I 

I close beneath the kind, cool darkness of the night; f 

And sink to sleep, lulled by the gently dripping dew. | 

O, Lord, I thank Thee for the sweetness of the night, ! 

I The silent deeps of her untroubled pools of rest, I 

i The drifting of my wrongs away in dreams of right, | 

i The promised waking to the matins of the Blest. i 



"Good night, good night," she whispered. 

His little daughter fair. 
And knelt, a snow-white figure, 

To say her evening prayer. 



I "I'll see you in the morning, 

i 

I 



i My papa dear," she said; 

As down he knelt beside her 



And kissed the golden head. I 

I "O bless my precious papa," j 

j He heard her softly pray, i 

I ^ 

i 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




"And guide his every footstep 
On Heaven's shining way." 

And how about the morning? 

He waits for it to come. 
An angel called at midnight, 

And took his darling "Home." 

But he shall surely see her 

When morning bids him rise; 

For her sweet prayer is answered; 
He journeys toward the skies! 



jHg Jling 



Circlet of gold, dear gift of friends, 

Like yours, their clasp of love ne'er ends, 

You bind yourself upon my hand; 

They are my heart's encircling band. 

The years your lustre do not steal; 

The stroke of time you do not feel. 
They are as constant as are you; 

Years only prove them gold and true. 

Tarnish and blight are not to you; 

Always you keep your golden hue. 
Thus are my friends — they brighter grow, 

The farther down the road we go. 

I would not part with you, my ring, 

For all the gifts your loss might bring; 

Nor would I part with my dear friends 
For all the wealth the world expends. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




Hast thou forgotten that it is not June 
Red beauty blooming in the frowning frost? 
Long since the deeply burning, harvest moon 
Her fire in the rime of winter lost. 

Dost thou not know death waits for thee, and blight? 
The murky mists, in sunless cloud-looms spun, 
WiU dance around thee through the windy night, 
And shroud thee ere their dismal dance is done. 

Thou canst not live a day; thy sweet warm breath 
Will mingle with the smell of leafy mould; 
Thy beauty wither 'neath the touch of de^th; 
Thy red lips stiffen at the kiss of cold. 

To m,e, in answer, thus the sweet rose spake, 
"I smile and bloom for dear, dead summer's sake. 
Her heart, tho' stilled beneath the drifting snows, 
At last, yet gives to thee her sweetest rose." 

This lesson from the fragile fiow'r I take: 
To smile and live for my lost loved ones' sake; 
To heal the hurt of winter's sullen sting. 
With ling'ring heartbeats of the tender spring. 

This truth I gather to my stricken breast; 
That, tho' their loving hearts are stilled to rest. 
They would, for love, yet live again in me; 
And so, I give their deathless love to thee. 



>U«HK^ 




®^nantks0 



Dark and ever darkening shelf 

In house unwarmed and windowless, 
I come to thee, yet not myself 

Am guest to thy grim cheerlessness; 
For that poor thing thou deemest I, — 

Late comer to my final place, — 
Now wantons through an endless sky 

And breathes the vast intake of space; 
While that to which thy gray mold clings. 

Is but a form of dust-returning clay 
Whose tenant, death released, now wings 

His starward, unhorizoned way. 
Nor let, nor hindrance bars his flight. 

Wide-winged, among the flying spheres; 
No sunless day, no moonless night 

Pursue him with their ghostly fears; 
But free, untrammelled, unafraid. 

Beyond the farthest, utmost star, 
Swift passage of the worlds is made 

To where his loved possessions are. 

You say it's the end of the road. 
Far terminal of hopes and fears. 
Where, at last, I wait with my load, 
The gatherings of all the years? 

You say it's the close of the day, 
This shadowy sinking to sleep. 



4i>«»<»2» 




In the twilight that curtains the way, 
Whose windings I falt'ringly creep? 

You say it's the country of death, 
This soundless deepening of night. 
With quieter intake of breath 
And slumberous soft'ning of sight? 

You say it's the thing that men hate. 
This stilling of storms in the breast. 
This load-losing pause by the gate, 
At the foot of the hills of rest? 

Ah, the scales have dropped from mine eyes; 
And the fear is gone from my heart; 
This starless curtaining of skies 
But rouses the dawn to its start; 

The morning shall kiss me awake, 
As the evening lulls me to sleep; 
My soul from its prison shall break. 
Eternity's fortunes to reap. 

Then here at the end of the road. 
As here at the close of the day, 
I will lay me down — and my load. 
By the gate that hedges the way. 

For the gate, tomorrow, shall swing ; 
My spirit shall journey the skies; 
My hand clasp the hand of the King, 
My heart lose its pain — hold the prize. 



L I F E • S OTHER WAY 




#g^lf 



nn^ 



As one who trav'ling comes at length, 

to some old wayside shrine, 
His courage gone, and ebbed his strength- 

the path a sharp decline — 
And kneeling there at close of day, 

the evening's hallowed hour, 
Bows low his head and heart to pray, 

and gains new strength and powV; 
So Lord, I come to find the cross 

erect on life's steep road. 
And falling, clasp its circling moss 

with arms that lose their load; * 
And, as I ask at this dear shrine, 

new visions come to me; 
For, looking up, a light "divine 

shines full and clear on Thee; 
And in Thy pure and love-lit face 

I find my answered prayer; 
For asking only help and grace, 

I find all mercies there. 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




^fe %xmt\\ 



"Thy gentleness hath made me great:" 
So sang the Psalmist -Laureate. 

Ah what a song, could my heart sing 
Of such a gracious fashioning 1 

My littleness of life to Thee 

I bring; but not despairingly. 

Beneath Thy gentle hand I wait; 

O touch me, Lord, and make me great 1 



Ifarjfltglft 



So often, Lord, within my breast, 
I feel the bold impulse of flight, 
To gain some far and shining crest 
Along the upper range of light. 

I find alas, no spreading wings 
For that long journey of the skies. 
The while my spirit halts and clings 
To some far lesser, lower prize. 

Thou gracious One, whose flight was^made 
From sky to earth and earth to sky,| 
Come quickly, come with mighty aid. 
And give me wings on which to fly. 

Give faith and hope and love, I pray. 
Broad pinions of the higher spheres; 
I'll spread them to their length today 
And fly 'til life's last height appears. 



I listened long to laughter; 
She sang in major key, 
But life was just as empty, 
For all her melody. 

I listened long to anguish; 
She sang in minor key, 
But life is full of purpose. 
Since anguish sang to me. 

They bloom, but they bloom behind the wall, 

In the flower garden there; 
Their perfumes mingle and drift and fall. 

And float away on the air. 

I hunger for one as I pass them by. 

Just one to press to my face. 
But a sign o'ertops the gate post high, 

"No trespassing on this place." 

They are blooming in thousands so fair. 

But ne'er a one can you pick, 
And a garden full has none to spare 

For a soul that is weary and sick. 

O garden of life, you too I pass; 

You too have your flowers rare, 
That I hunger to pluck, but alas. 

The "No trespass" sign is there! 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 





'^a^ts 



Today I wait for the roses 

To bloom by my garden wall, 

Nor grieve when the evening closes 

On never a rose at all; 

For all the roses are budded; 

The air, with perfume, is sweet; 

Tomorrow's world will be flooded 

With blossomed roses replete. 

Thus, Lord, may I wait the morning 
Here in my garden of hope, 
Kept, at the evening, from scorning 
Buds that Thy day-dawn shall ope; 
For life's with me as with roses. 
Today the garden's in gloom. 
But oh, what tomorrow discloses! 
Roses forever in bloom. 

Then I shall gather the roses, 
I've waited so long to see; 
For morning no fetter imposes 
On either roses or me; 
And never a rose shall perish. 
And not a petal shall fall; 
For God my roses shall cherish, 
That I may gather them all. 




'Ah, girlie sweet," I answered her, 
And tucked her snug in bed, 



'Tis Christmas once again and I, 

Still dull of heart, and blind. 
Search all the height and depth of sky 

His star and Him to find. i 

O laggard heart, O heavy eyes, | 

How canst thou be so slow, I 

The Christ fills all the worlds and skies, | 

See, see His star aglow! i 

Master, this shall be for me [ 

The highest Christmas day, I 

1 find, I find Thy star and Thee, i 

My darkness drifts away. | 

i 

®ijc ^eanmg of fflljrtatmaa 

"Now what does Trismas mean to you?" I 

The little maiden said. ! 

"It means a whole dreat lot to me, | 

'Cause my dear dolly's dead; i 

An' I'm espectin', when I wake, i 

A dear new doll to see — i 

A^doU wiv dest the tweetest eyes, I 

Vat wink an' blink at me." ! 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




"It means a whole great lot to me 

For one I love is dead; 
And I'm expecting, when I wake 

My precious one to see, 
For that is what our Christmas means 

To my lost love and me." 



'^t^% 



twc 



As one who stands before the door. 

Of some unknown, unlighted room, 
And pauses ere he passes o'er 

The threshold, to its rayless gloom; 
So Lord, I pause before the year 

Whose eager gate but waits to swing. 
Confessing to a thralling fear 

At thought of blindly entering. 

I dare not enter. Lord, alone; 

For Thy companionship I plead; 
Oh guide me through the dim unknown; 

My footsteps through its darkness lead 1 
And should I falter in the way. 

Or fall, storm beaten, to the clod, 
In that dark moment, lift I pray. 

My vision to the face of God. 



«J.H 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




7 



^r0&itl| 



The flowers greet each morning 

With a fairer, sweeter dress; 
The mountains meet each sunrise 

With a new-born loftiness. 
The fields are ever richer 

In the silver of each dawn; 
The world is one day better 

When its y ester-night is gone. 

Thus, Lord, my soul would greet Thee 

At each golden break of day; 
With higher, purer, vision. 

Clad in lovelier array; 
While each succeeding sun-burst 

Of thy spirit over mine 
Illumes a taller nature, 

A full day's length nearer Thine. 



^Efn ^trttj 



One day the spirit of the sea 

Left the great deep to dwell in me. 

My life, that day, became so vast 

It swept the shores of all the past. 

One day the spirit of the sky 

Engaged my soul's keen-searching eye. 



^H^»<M 



LIFE'S OTHER WAY 




At that my life became so wide 
It thrust the universe aside. 

One day the spirit of a Man 

O'er my self-serving spirit ran. 

Ah then, my life became but dross, 
To hang with His upon the cross. 

One day the spirit of the morn 

Within my pulseless heart was born. 

'Twas thus my life became so free 
It breathed with immortality. 




^0tx:C0 of ii\t ^tgl{t 



I heard a footfall in the street, 

Upon the night's dead silence beat; 

I listened long for it, in vain. 

To ring upon the stones again. 

The tempter said, with poignant thrust, 

"Your life's a footfall in the dust." 

I heard a distant passer's laugh; 
The night wind bore me but its half; 
I still await the finished note. 
To ripple from the laugher's throat. 
The tempter said, "Your life is chaff — 
It ends as did the broken laugh." 

But life is not a foot's lost fall; 
We need not any sound at all. 
To tell our souls we walk abroad 
Upon unending streets of God; 
And that unfinished notes of earth 
Give glad eternal music birth. 




f!!i!!i 



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